


Of Darkness and of Light.

by GoldenHero



Category: Haikyuu!!, Star Wars (All Media)
Genre: F/F, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-10
Updated: 2016-06-10
Packaged: 2018-07-14 07:26:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7159733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoldenHero/pseuds/GoldenHero
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the fall of the Empire, almost all of the Sith seemed to melt away into the shadows, and the Jedi Knights had begun to rise again, but now, after nearly a hundered years, the Sith have returned, and for the young Jedi Knights, fighting against the Sith may be the thing that they will dread to do the most.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SuggestiveScribe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SuggestiveScribe/gifts).



Before he even neared the village on his fighter, Iwaizumi Hajime knew something was wrong. He could see the tops of his village unusually lit, and for a moment he mistook it as the Great Harvest Festival, but it was not until he saw the smoke that he knew something was horribly wrong.

  
He landed his fighter quickly, climbing hastily from the cockpit and racing towards the village, stumbling over the rocks and sand hills that surrounded his home into a valley.

  
The smell of smoke came stronger than ever, and with it came the faint sounds of screams and the crackling of fire that sent Hajime’s nerves into overdrive.

  
Those screams, they were of fellow Jedi Knights, his Masters that he had come to adore were trapped in the blaze, unable to escape by some force against them.

  
With a horrible feeling in the pit of his stomach, Hajime ran towards the smoke billowing up from the hills of sand.  
His breath came in panicked huffs as he sprinted up the hill, his lightsaber pressing into his hip as he came to the top of the hill, staring out into the wreckage of his home.

  
Fire was everywhere. Covering the houses, people, animals, anything that could burn was burning, and it just kept spreading.  
Horrible screams came from all corners of the village, begging for help, for someone to help them, but Hajime couldn’t move.  
He saw the person who had started this mess, the one man to blame for all of the death and destruction of Hajime’s peaceful village.

  
Oikawa Tooru. 

Tooru was positioned facing away from Hajime, but Hajime could tell that the padawan could clearly sense him, but something about their bond felt...Off.

  
Something felt damaged, and as Tooru turned to face him, Hajime saw what was in his grasp. A red lightsaber.  
He carried it in his hand with no hesitation, his grip tight around the weapon's hilt, gloved hands unshaking as the flame of their burning village happened behind him.

  
Hajime couldn’t move. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t do anything but watch as Tooru’s eyes glinted with something that was not the little boy he had so happily played with when he was a boy, they were not the cute brown eyes that flickered happily whenever they saw Hajime.

  
No... This was someone else. Those eyes that were once so caring and so soft now were filled to the brim with a sort of mania and flickered with red hot passion, something that was against the Jedi code entirely.  
Tooru smirked when he saw the horror on Hajitme’s face and raised his left hand, holding it out to Hajime as if to shake hands.

  
“Iwa-chan!” Tooru called up to him, his voice still the same sickly sweet it had always been, but laced with cruel intentions.  
“Come with me! I have met someone,” Tooru started, the grin on his face growing, “someone who has taught me freedom! They can teach you too!”

  
Hajime snapped back into his head, shoving the pain away and replacing it with a snarl, grasping onto his lightsaber and leaping forward.

  
Tooru seemed to sense the attack coming before Hajime even moved, and whipped his lightsaber up, blocking Hajime and shoving him back.

  
“Do you even know what you’ve done?!” Hajime screamed, raising his voice above the blasts and cracks of buildings as they fell to the ground, the screams of pain and agony were muted by the mere essence of the force surrounding the two.  
“I have become stronger!” Tooru said with a laugh, grinning with his teeth and launching himself forward, slashing his lightsaber down towards Hajime.

  
“I have seen the greatness of the Darkness! It invited me when no one else would, and it would do the same to you!” Tooru cried, his face illuminated by the glow of his lightsaber, shining on his insane face.  
“The Darkness is consuming you!” Hajime screamed back, his throat feeling raw as he pressed his blue saber against Tooru’s red one.

  
He could feel his eyes burning hot, but forced himself not to cry. The last thing he needed was to cry in front of his best friend, no, his boyfriend.

  
“The Darkness welcomed me when the Light would not!” Tooru shouted, jumping away from Haijime’s saber and readying his own in an offensive stance.

  
Hajime trembled, his eyes starting to burn more, and he could feel tears budding at his eyes, tears that he was unable to force down into the depths of his stomach. His knees started to quake, and without the power to stop them, he gave into the grief that began to spill over in both his mind and his heart.

  
They dripped down his cheek, dripping onto his cheeks and nose as he stepped away from Tooru. His legs felt shaky, and his throat felt tight.

  
“Come home, Tooru.” Hajime begged, his voice rough as he pleaded to the Sith who stood before him, his eyes burning with a sort of excitement and rage that Hajime had never seen in his life.

  
It burned him to the core and made his heart clench, but after a moment he realized that it wasn’t the emotion that was clenching at his heart, it was Tooru.

  
Tooru had raised his hand into a fist, the mere power of Tooru’s Force was crushing his neck and his heart, causing him to choke as his feet were lifted from the ground.

  
His vision had started to blur, but still Tooru did not yield. His eyes burned with fury, with passion, with rage, with fear.  
They roared amber, narrowed into furious slits, “I know what I am doing, Hajime.” Tooru’s voice was deathly soft and so caring that Hajime almost felt comforted.

  
“I have to leave you, but only because you would try to bring me back to that prison.” Tooru spat, unclenching his fist and letting Hajime fall to the ground, coughing and retching for breath.

  
“What the hell do you mean by prison?!” Hajime wheezed, his saber feeling heavy in his hands, numb almost, and he was nearly unable to pick it up.

  
“Our Masters made us into robots!” Tooru snarled, grabbing onto Hajime’s saber with his Force, tossing it away roughly before he kneeled down before Hajime, pursing his lips thinly as he reached out to the kneeling Jedi.  
“They made us believe that there was peace in everything, but they were wrong!” Tooru said, his eyes lighting up with insanity and glowing with a sort of pride that made Hajime’s head pound.

  
“There is no peace, there is only passion.” Tooru grabbed Hajime by his arms, pulling him to his feet and pressing his face closer to Hajime's.

  
“Don’t you see?” Tooru whispered, guiding Hajime’s sight to the fighters that had begun to lower onto the ground, a pair of Sith fighters, black and dangerous.

  
“They have come for our aid,” Tooru whispered, grinning more, “for you!” He began to pull Hajime towards the ships, and surprisingly, Hajime didn’t resist his touch. Instead, he pressed his hand roughly into Tooru’s, and shoved him to the ground.  
He lashed out with his hand, grabbing onto his lightsaber as if it were tethered to him and slashed the glowing sword down towards Tooru’s laying form.

  
Tooru’s smirk turned into a horrible growl, his lip curling into a snarl as he blocked Hajime’s slash, tossing his weakened body back with a flick of his hand.

  
Hajime landed hard, wheezing loudly in pain as his spine arched. He tried to get air into his lungs, but found himself struggling as Tooru approached, not by walking, but floating on his Force alone.

  
“You traitor!” Hajime wheezed as soon as he got air back, glaring up at the snarling Tooru who looked perfectly livid.

  
“Traitor? Me?!” Tooru laughed, an evil and high laugh that made Hajime’s skin tingle with pain as Tooru raised his hands, forcing Hajime up onto his feet, still floating a few feet away, but Hajime could clearly feel Tooru’s Force pushing against his own, forcing it out into the ground, snuffing it away.

  
Hajime breathed hard, his head pounding from the pain that began to rocket through his body. Tooru approached slowly, his face eerily flat as he pressed his hand against Hajime’s forehead, forcing his head to tilt back.

  
Hajime grunted, struggling but all in vain. His vision began to swim as Tooru leaned in, his breath billowing into Hajime’s ear.

  
“If you don't come freely, then I’ll force you.” He whispered, snapping his hand back as well as Hajime’s head, slamming his fist into his face.

  
Hajime was awake for a few more seconds, but only to see tears drip from Tooru’s eyes and for storm troopers to surround the pair, grabbing Hajime and carrying him away as blood flowed from his nose and his lips.

  
He was pushed into the ship, and with the lights shining down onto his face with the face of a Sith Lord looming above him, his eyes closed and his mind was plunged into a blank slate of blackness.

  
As he woke up, he found that he was standing in a sort of bind, his arms were tied behind his back, and guns were pressed behind his back. He was unable to see, but could hear everything around him. Whispers, faint screams of agony, the rumbling sounds of droids and other machines.

  
In an instant, the darkness that swirled around him started to clear, revealing a large hall, one that he had never seen.  
The walls sloped up into points, with pews on every wall filled with cloaked sith, all of their sabers drawn and angled upright stiffly.

  
Hajime stared at them, feeling small among the pounding in his head. At the end of the hall sat a tall Sith in a throne that seemed to be made of pure steel. Tooru stood at his side, his arms clasped behind his back.

  
Tooru’s face was blank, his lips pursed and eyes looking straight ahead, not sparing Hajime a single glance. Hajime tried to speak, but a single glare from the Sith Lord made him go quiet in mere fear of the man’s power.  
The Sith nodded to Tooru who nodded back, and with a bow took out Hajime’s lightsaber, still in the same condition that it had always been in. Tooru handed the weapon to the Sith Lord and bowed again before he regained his position of standing up straight.

  
“Hajime Iwaizumi,” the Sith Lord said, his voice chilled Hajime to the bone, and unconsciously he found himself bowing a bit, but snapped himself up, biting his tongue to force himself not to move.

  
The Sith Lord smirked, raising Hajime’s lightsaber up into the air where it spun slowly, the green blue blade slipping out slowly for all to see.

  
“This young Jedi has been chosen by my Padawan.” The Sith Lord spoke, making the other Sith who sat in the pews whisper to each other, their voice like hissing snakes until the Sith Lord cleared his throat, silencing them all at once.

  
“I have seen through to this young man’s training with the Jedi, and I see that Tooru has chosen correctly.” Tooru smirked a little, looking like a snake with his mouth, but like a puppy with his eyes as they looked to Hajime, pleadingly bright.

  
Hajime looked away, glaring at a spot on the blood red floor, hate starting to burn into his head. He tried to push it away, but he could feel the strong emotions starting to overpower him.

  
The Sith Lord grinned, raising his hand to Hajime. “See,” he boomed, “his rage and passion has become untapped! Soon, he shall be one of us!”

  
Hajime struggled, feeling emotion welling up in his throat and in a surge of anger he screamed. His eyes closed as pain bloomed all over his body, the Darkness forcing its way inside of his very being as he struggled, unable to fight it, and after nearly ten minutes of struggling, he gave up and let the Darkness consume him whole.

  
He bowed his head, tears still leaking from his eyes as Tooru sprinted forward, grabbing his chin and making him look up, sobbing a little as he hugged Hajime tightly.

  
“Hajime!” Voices all around them boomed, all of them screamed his name, but all Hajime could do was let tears drip down his cheeks as Tooru hugged him, both of them sobbing as they fall into the Darkness within together.


	2. Chapter 2

Before Kenma even knew he had the gift of the Force, he knew that he was different from most children his age.

He rarely went outside, but prefered to stay in doors out of the harsh sunlight and fiddle with his grandmother’s droids while other children roamed around in play areas.

But it wasn’t until he turned five did he get a sign of who he was to become. It was on a particularly hot day when his grandmother had forced him outside and away from the droids for a few hours while she cleaned the house.

He had gone to sit on one of the many rocks jutting from the ground close to the play area when a stray ball was flung at him from a neighboring child, it was an accident of course, but it still terrified Kenma as the red ball came hurtling at him like a blaster bullet.

He threw his hands up in front of him, bracing himself for the hit, but it never came. Gasps and screams of shock came from the other children making Kenma look up to see that the ball that had been aimed to hit him only a moment before had stopped mid-air and was floating in one space quite pleasantly.

Kenma himself could feel something in the back of his mind, a sort of tug that made his head whirl and his stomach clench before a great pressure burst at the back of his head and he collapsed onto the ground, the ball falling with him and bouncing back to the children as if it had never floated at all.

After recovering from his fall, his grandmother immediately enlisted him into a Jedi academy, practically glowing with pride as she watched him along with dozens of other young Padawans making their own Lightsabers.

Kenma could remember doing the hard task to this day. With all of the other children around him snickering as he stared at the tools before him in wonder, but all of them went silent as soon as his mind began to whirl once more, and before his and the Jedi Master’s eyes, the tools began to float.

The pieces of metal began to slowly put themselves together, fusing into a fully functional Lightsaber, some better than even the most skilled Jedi Masters. The finished product was a beautiful Adegan Silver, a color that no one in many years had been able to create.

From then on, Kenma was treated as a genius. His peers flocked to him, begging him to teach them the ways of the force, and Jedi Masters practically begged his main teacher, Takeda, to take him on as their own Padawan, but Takeda always repeated a simple line.

“The Jedi Master does not choose his Padawan, the Padawan must choose his Master.” Those words always comforted Kenma, they gave him a sort of hope.

He would find his master, and his master would be someone he could be comfortable with. He hoped. But as time wore on, his peers and the Masters began to drift away from him, leaving Kenma to his own devices, still unable to find a Master he was comfortable with.

He needed someone, and he needed them now. He could tell that Takeda was becoming impatient.

He often watched as the black haired Master would pace in his study, biting his nails as he spoke to other Masters, often times pleading them to teach Kenma something, to give him a Master who he could learn from.

But Kenma no longer wanted a master. Time had worn on, his fellow Padawans had become Masters, and his Masters had begun to age more and more, but still Kenma waited. He waited and waited until he met Kuroo.

Kuroo was as much as cat as he was a man.

He was tall with messy hair and sharp eyes that watched Kenma’s every move. He had appeared one night in Kenma’s dreams, speaking to him softly of an order that Kenma could make his own.

He offered to train Kenma, and without knowing the price that it would be on his very being, Kenma accepted him. Kuroo trained him night after night, always dressed in his dark robes with a red insignia on his chest as he told Kenma secrets of the Force, the weak points of others and how he could defeat them with only a few moves.

He taught Kenma until he could teach him no more, and on the Eve of Kenma’s 18th birthday, he appeared a final time.

“Kenma!” He said in Kenma’s dream scape, his arms wide and welcoming as he walked forward, his grin dark and deep as it had always been.

“Kuroo.” Kenma said back, allowing Kuroo to hug him before pulling away, feeling a stir of excitement in his chest.

“What will we be doing tonight?” Kenma asked, trying not to sound too eager. Kuroo merely shook his head, his eyes looking thoughtful for a few moments.

He patted Kenma’s back, smiling widely as he led Kenma towards a podium, one that Kenma hadn’t noticed before in their previous training sessions. On the podium sat a lightsaber, deactivated, but it seemed to radiate pure power just by sitting there.

“I have taught you all I can,” Kuroo purred, his hands laying on Kenma’s shoulders, his hands warm for once when they were previously cold as ice.

“Take it.” Kuroo whispered into Kenma’s ear, leading his arm to the Lightsaber before them. As Kenma touched it, he felt a zap of power surge through him and he flinched, something dark was inside of the Lightsaber, something that Takeda had always warned Kenma about.

Dark power.

“I...I can’t..” Kenma whispered, his feelings conflicting as his hands began to shake. He closed his eyes tightly and willed himself to wake up, but found that he could not. Kuroo’s hands tightened on Kenma’s shoulders a bit, and his breath billowed into Kenma’s ear, his voice teasingly soft.

“Take it,” he urged, “this is what I have trained you for.” He brushed his hands along Kenma’s arms, leading Kenma like a puppet droid up to the Lightsaber again.

“The Jedi Knights have betrayed you,” Kuroo hissed, “they are using you as a drone to destroy what little home the Sith have.” Kenma shivered, his eyes cracking open as he hands descended upon the Lightsaber.

He hesitated for a moment, but as soon as Kuroo began to whisper again, he found himself reaching for the weapon and grasping it tightly in his hand.

“Good, good!” Kuroo hissed, so sharply that Kenma could practically hear the grin in his words. Kenma’s body for once felt whole, as if a hole had been filled by the passion, by the power that this Lightsaber gave to him.

“Fight for me, Kenma.” Kuroo purred, leading Kenma’s arms up to hold the Lightsaber and activate it. The Lightsaber shone a bright red, flickering with power and for one of the rare moments in Kenma’s life, Kenma began to smile.

“Now,” Kuroo said, letting go of Kenma’s shoulders and gently pushing him away into the darkness of Kenma’s dreams.

“Kill them! I want every Jedi Knight dead at your hands! Kill them all and show your allegiance to the Sith!” Kuroo shoved Kenma down onto the floor, but instead of hitting the hard ground, he stumbled down into an endless black hole.

He gasped as he woke up, arching his back a bit as his eyes snapped open. His body felt tingly with power, as if he could do anything.

He slowly moved, sitting up and grabbing his new Lightsaber from his side table and slipping from his bed. He was in his dorm room, one that all the Padawans and new Masters slept in until they became full fledged Jedi.

Kenma stared at the sleeping bodies of his fellow students, but instead of feeling awkward, a sort of rage started to fill up in his stomach.

He activated the Lightsaber, watching the red hot blade work its way up to the full extent of it’s reach. He stared at it for a moment before a grin stretched onto his cheeks, and before he could think at all, he lifted his arms and slashed down into his first victim.

The saber's blade passed through the young girl easily, and soon he found himself moving from bed to bed, slicing off heads or pressing the blade into the hearts of anyone he found, no one waking up enough to find what had happened.

“Good job.” Kenma stiffened up at Kuroo’s teasing voice and turned quickly only to find himself face to face with his Master himself, grinning down at Kenma with sharp teeth and ill intent.

It was the first time Kenma had ever seen Kuroo in person, and while looking at him, he seemed even more handsome than in his dreams.

He was just as tall as he was, but next to Kenma, he seemed taller. His hair seemed to be messier, and his eyes were wild with glee.

“You have done what I’ve asked of you, and in return, I will give you power.” Kuroo held his hand out, smirking at Kenma who stared back, blood coating his hands as his Lightsaber slipped away into its sheath.

He took Kuroo’s hand, feeling the warmth of the other’s hand in his own, and felt his heart soar with happiness. He finally had the thing he wanted the most.

A master that he was comfortable with, and indeed he was.

Kuroo was perfect, and Kenma would follow him to the ends of the earth, even if it meant betraying the only home he knew.

He didn’t care. He loved Kuroo too much, and would stay with him forever.


End file.
